


Coin Laundry

by burntotears



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter/Funhaus RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Neighbors, First Meetings, Humor, M/M, Suggestive
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-17
Updated: 2017-07-17
Packaged: 2018-12-03 04:35:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,151
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11524662
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/burntotears/pseuds/burntotears
Summary: “This fucking…” Michael trailed off as he tugged open the washing machine door, glaring at the wet clothes inside. He knew instantly that they were 20B’s clothes; only that man had 900 plain black t-shirts and 20 pairs of dad jeans even though Michael was fairly certain he had no children.





	Coin Laundry

“This fucking…” Michael trailed off as he tugged open the washing machine door, glaring at the wet clothes inside. He knew instantly that they were 20B’s clothes; only that man had 900 plain black t-shirts and 20 pairs of dad jeans even though Michael was fairly certain he had no children. 

20B was a lot of things that Michael had noticed while living next door to him for the last year. The man was quiet - he kept to himself and regardless of how often Michael saw him in the hall, the blond had never spoken a word to him. He was polite to a fault - once he’d seen 20B run into someone exiting the elevator and her things had clattered to the floor. 20B took five minutes helping the woman collect her belongings and then he walked her to her car and opened the door for her. Who even fucking did that anymore? He was good looking in that classic, descendant from a god type of way too, not that Michael had exuberantly appraised his looks from afar.

But what infuriated Michael the most about 20B was that he notoriously left his clothes in the shared laundry untouched for hours after they’d finished their wash cycle. Usually it wasn’t a huge deal; there were other washing machines available so Michael just ignored it. But he had a job interview tomorrow and he needed to wash his dress shirt and lo and behold, 20B’s clothes were in the only free washing machine that night.

With a grunt of frustration, he bit the bullet and started to haul 20B’s clothes from the machine, dumping them unceremoniously onto the folding counter. He didn’t have time for this shit. He was halfway through dragging the second armload across the room when 20B marched into the doorway and froze, staring at Michael who had his clothes encircled in his arms. Well, this was a bit awkward.

“Your clothes finished washing fucking 30 minutes ago,” Michael said bluntly, dropping the load on the table. His shirt was soaking through now from the wet clothes. Great.

“Uh…” 20B said gracefully, still stuck in the doorway.

“I have an interview tomorrow and I need to wash my clothes and you are hogging the only free washer,” Michael tried to elaborate.

“How do you even know they are my clothes?” 20B asked, his face still shocked.

Michael made an obvious show of eying him up and down, allowing himself some extra appreciation of the low ride of his sweatpants and the way the shirt clung tightly to his waist - it was probably his ‘out of other clothes to wear’ outfit and Michael was glad to have visually catalogued this beauty for later jerk-off sessions. “You’re the only person on the planet who has the same black shirt and dad jeans for days.”

“What are dad jeans?” his neighbor asked, finally entering the room and leaning against a nearby dryer. He had yet to offer to help Michael unload the rest of his clothes - in fact, he made no move toward his clothes at all. He was watching Michael with a critical eye. 

Michael narrowed his eyes. “Are you trying to be funny?”

The other man looked confused. “No? I don’t know what that means.”

“They’re - they’re high waisted, light blue, loose fit, usually worn by middle-aged dads who have no fashion sense.” Michael wasn’t sure if the guy was trolling him or not.

“You think I have no fashion sense?” He made a gesture at Michael’s graphic Nickelodeon tee and stained sweatpants - also a ‘out of clean clothes’ outfit. 

“Well _yeah_ , obviously.” Michael looked from 20B to the washing machine and back again. “Wanna get your shit outta there so I can do my load?”

His neighbor had a smirk on his face now and Michael wasn’t sure if he was attracted or further annoyed by it. “You already started, I thought I’d let you finish.”

Michael gaped openly. “Wow, you’re a fucking dick,” he said and his voice sounded almost fond. He found himself grabbing the last armful of 20B’s clothes and taking them to the counter which the man was now standing next to with a smug look on his face. 

“Thanks,” 20B said when Michael finished. Then he snagged Michael’s laundry basket from the floor and started tossing his clothes into the machine. Michael continued to stare in disbelief. “I’m Ryan, by the way,” he said when he’d finished with Michael’s clothes. When Michael didn’t respond, Ryan took the detergent from the counter and added it to the load before starting the washer. He leaned against it and watched Michael carefully. “Cat got your tongue?”

Michael took care to shake himself from his stupor. “Uh… sorry, I just-” Why was he so speechless suddenly? No one had ever made Michael “Asshole” Jones speechless like this.

“Was going to tell me your name?” 20B - no, _Ryan_ \- said. 

“Oh. I’m Michael. I live in 21B.” 

Ryan smiled knowingly. “Yeah, I’ve seen you around. Heard you in the apartment a few times doing what I can only assume was destruction of personal property. That or some pretty intense sex.”

Michael’s cheeks pinked at the last. “Uh… no, the former. I vent my anger with physical violence.”

The blond quirked an eyebrow. “I’ve heard fucking can help vent anger too.” He shrugged nonchalantly. “Just a suggestion.” He then turned and started loading his clothing into a free dryer as though he hadn’t just propositioned Michael with sex. Maybe he hadn’t? Michael wasn’t sure what was happening, if he was honest with himself.

“Are you…” but he didn’t even know how to ask the question. ‘Are you asking me to fuck you’ seemed both presumptuous and a bit harsh as a question to someone you’d never spoken to before ten minutes ago. “Are you gay?” he asked instead, knowing that it was equally as offensive.

Ryan turned, but he didn’t look angry, which was good. “Are _you_ gay?” Ryan parroted back, bemused. “Is that a thing people just ask each other these days?”

Michael shrugged. “Probably not, but I’ve never really cared what people thought.” After a moment he added, “I’m bisexual.”

“Ah,” Ryan replied. “Well hi, bisexual, I’m Ryan.” 

Michael groaned. “Wow. You really have the dad thing down.”

With a laugh, Ryan said, “Why, are you into that sort of thing?”

“Fuck no,” Michael barked, though he rethought the statement almost immediately. “I mean, are you asking if I’m into you? Because if you _are_ asking that, I’d say ‘yeah, probably’. But only if you were asking that specifically.”

Ryan’s eyebrows were reaching new heights on his forehead as he turned to assess the younger man. “Right. If that’s what I was asking.” After a long appraising look at Michael, the blond added, “And if I were asking you back to my place? What might you say then?”

“Fuck yes.”


End file.
